A chance to have Pride

When does perservering become stupid? What is the difference between knowing when to push farther for that last lap, or when it might mean a heart attack. When does a choice to quit become a smart choice instead a cowardly fold?

I recently have joined a publishing program that is all about deadlines. Projects piles ontop of each other in a ridiculous way like a slanted pile of flapjacks, only these fuckers aren't sweet at all. Its all about stress. And looking at others. And looking over your shoulder. Or at least it is for me now

I started out as one of the pack in the beginning, as a potential friend and ally. But as the weeks progressed and my skills diminished as well as my dignity, I began to see myself like the fat kid at gym as everyone watches with quiet disgust and yet determined ignorance as he stares helplessly up at that rope. Like a pack, they noticed the weakest link, and like what is natural they left me behind. They stopped trying to include, and treated my feeble attempts to keep the pace as pathetic and often with a formal and cold formality like doctor who knows his patient is going to die but doesn't want to get emotionally involved. Maybe I'm being dramatic, maybe I'm not. All I know is being the one left behind is never fun. And it also always shows you how really devastatingly cruel the human kind can be to anyone who does not "fit".

Whether its physical appearance and attire, learning capabilities, a lacking aptitude for money, anything, it's all the same. You keep up, or you get left behind. What is it about that fact that hurts so fucking much to a sensitive kid like me? Is it the fact that I usually had most of those?

In high school, I had a wealth of friends. I wasn't "popular" in the Mean Girls sense, but I was in the sense that I was friends with basically everyone and anyone. I could hang out with the jocks, the nerds, the stoners, the preps, and it was never weird for me or never felt like I was pegged nor was odd for eating with a very obvious different group each week.  I also took ridiculous amounts of time on appearance, like 2 hours worth of straightening my hair,  and spending time fretting over clothes when I usually ended up wearing pretty much the same thing anyways.

I'm going off topic- Basically what I'm trying to say is I was at my prettiest, and smartest. But I didn't get it served to me either. I worked my ass off but I was also a keener. I studied and agonized over even 1 page quizes. I was known as maybe not THE smartest kid, but definitely in the top five.

Fast forward 5 years, and I am asking yet another question in Digital design that is 5 steps behind what everyone else has already moved onto. I am wearing glasses with thick rims. I wear no makeup, and my skin is both raw in and out. I have so much worry in my gut it actually is physically coming up as ulcers.

But I keep going to class...why? Because I keep hearing my father's voice, "West's aren't quiters." and my dying persevering need not to be the one who breaks that standard that has lasted until now. But when does this vigor actually start to kill me? Because when I'm sipping mint tea to try and cool my aching gut while my eyes are hurting to even have these last 10 minutes of the day for myself outside of school to write down my true feelings...does going on really seem like courage or just stupidity?

And when can I stop feeling so bad about the fact that no one cares. I care about the careless. The ones who close doors in faces, or cut ropes, or turn away when someone screams. What is it about that that hurts so goddamn much? I don't know. I guess because I care, and because I know what it feels like to the runt, and that everyone deserves a chance to have pride...